


Morning finds you still warm and breathing

by sirona



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Age Regression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny's not answering his phone, and Steve is not panicking. Not at all, no, it's fine, it's not like Danny got doused with a suspicious gas compound during yesterday's bust--<i>except that he did</i>, and now Steve is taking Not Panicking to a whole new level. A de-aged BB!Danny fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning finds you still warm and breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Please to be suspending disbelief about the science -- it's complete bogus, as most of you suspect. The Steve/Danny part happens after things get back to normal.
> 
> This fic is for andrealyn, who not only gave me the plot bunny, but betaed it for me -- and she did it in 23 minutes. I thought _I_ had a quick beta turnaround!! Title from _This Tornado Loves You_ by Neko Case.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters belong to CBS.

Danny's not answering his phone.

Danny's not answering his phone, and Steve is not panicking. Not at all, no, it's fine, it's not like Danny got doused with a suspicious gas compound during yesterday's bust-- _except that he did_ , and now Steve is taking Not Panicking to a whole new level, even if the doctors pronounced his partner 'healthy as a horse' on the scene (and hadn't Danny let them have it for _that_ one. A horse? Really? Don’t they know him by now?). He just needs to see Danny's okay for himself.

He tries taking deep breaths and thinking logically about it even as his right foot inches the accelerator closer and closer to the floor. He only barely stops himself from flicking the sirens on, because maybe Danny's just being his usual passive-aggressive self; Steve vaguely remembers the 'Going In Without Back-up' speech, version #468 being delivered at him while he cuffed the suspects and passed them on to HPD for processing. Or maybe Danny's just taking his own sweet time in the shower or something--although Steve's mind shies away from going there at this point, because driving his truck with a hard-on is kind of really fucking uncomfortable, and he hates the fact that he's had reasons aplenty to find this out recently. He hates that Danny has that power over him, even as he loves him a little for being a tenacious bastard and burrowing under Steve's skin so efficiently--

\--Anyway. Point is, if it's any one of those two reasons, or something equally innocuous, and Steve arrives guns-a-blazing with full HPD back-up at his heels courtesy of the sirens, and kicks in the door because he thinks Danny's in trouble, and Danny is just sitting there having breakfast, Danny's probably going to shoot him. A lot. So it's in Steve's best interests to take the stealth approach in this case.

He parks the car across two parking spots in his rush to make sure nothing's happened to Danny in the nine hours since they last saw each other (and okay, yeah, he knows how that sounds, but just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you) and approaches the front door cautiously, hand resting on the butt of his gun. He knocks, because kicking Danny's door in without the slightest pretext will bring Danny's wrath down upon him like a rain of fire.

"Danno? You in there? I've been calling all morning! I know it's Saturday, but it's considered rude by the polite society you love so much to ignore your partner's phone calls."

There's nothing but silence from the inside, no trace of movement behind the flimsy curtains. Steve's about to give up and pick the lock anyway when a sound comes from inside that stops his heart in his chest. It sounds like a whimper, and it's far too high-pitched to belong to Danny. It sounds like a child's voice, and it's not happy.

"Oh my god, Grace," he whispers hoarsely, backs up two steps and kicks the door in, Danny's fury be damned. If it's about Grace, Steve thinks he'll be forgiven.

"Grace? Honey?" he calls, rushing through the door and looking around frantically. "It's Steve! It's okay, you're safe, can you come out so I can make sure you're okay?"

No answer. His heart is thumping in his chest harder than he can ever remember, adrenaline rushing through his veins and making his vision blur a little. He takes in the messy room -- it's no more disorganised than usual, and there's no signs of a struggle, if you don't count the twisted sheets on the bed. He heads over to check if they're still warm, trying to gauge a possible time frame for an attack of any sort.

The sheets rustle just as he reaches the bed. There's a child-shaped lump underneath, curled up in a little ball of fear. Steve lifts the top sheet very slowly, trying to keep from making any sudden movements that would freak out Grace even more. A little foot emerges, tangled in a very large pair of boxer shorts that look suspiciously like Danny's. What's Grace doing, wearing Danny's clothes?

He lifts the sheet up further and further, revealing a small hand, a thin arm, and finally, a mass of tousled blond hair atop the head tucked into the scrawny chest. That is _definitely_ not Grace, he thinks to himself as he reaches a careful hand to brush back the silky fringe. A pair of scared ice-blue eyes peek up at him through blond eyelashes; Steve would know those _anywhere_.

"Oh Jesus, Danny," he rasps; his knees give out, and he sinks onto the edge of the fold-out bed in shock.

"Who are you?" Danny asks; and even though he must be completely terrified to wake up in this strange place without knowing how he got there, there's still a hint of defiance in his voice, and Steve loves him so much it's almost unbearable.

"My name is Steve. And you're Danny, aren't you?" he says, as soothingly as he can manage.

"Yeah. How do you know my name?" The kid's suspicious. That's his Danny.

"I know your--brother."

"Matty?" His eyes round up, and his scowl fades a little. "He sent you?"

"Yeah, he sent me to make sure you're okay. Can you tell me how you got here?"

Danny hesitates, chews at his lower lip a little in confusion. "I don't know. I just woke up in this bed, and my pyjamas don't fit, and it smells like me but not."

Steve closes his eyes a little at the uncertainty in Danny's voice. "Okay, that's okay. Listen, I just need to call--Matty, tell him you're okay. Can you wait for me here for a moment? And then we can maybe go get some breakfast?"

Danny's face lights up. "Blueberry pancakes?" he asks hopefully.

"Sure. Anything you want. I'll just be a minute, why don't you go brush your teeth? There should be a toothbrush in the bathroom you can use." Steve points him to the right door, ignores the disgusted 'ugh, it's _pink_ ' that comes from inside, and pulls out his phone.

'Yo, McGarrett, what's up? We get a case?"

"Chin, no, we got a situation. It's Danny."

"What's happened?" Chin asks, losing the easy tone.

Steve hesitates, but Chin has been on the Force for fifteen years -- he's bound to have seen some weird things in his life. "He wasn't answering his phone this morning, so I came over to his place to check he's okay, you know, with the gas thing yesterday." Chin hums a confirmation in his ear. "And when I got here... Chin, Danny's turned into a kid. He's maybe six years old, if I had to guess."

"Six and a half," a small voice pipes up behind him. Steve whirls to find Danny huddled in a huge white T-shirt that would have fit his adult body just fine.

"Six and a half," Steve repeats dutifully into his phone. It's testament to how weird the situation is that Chin doesn't laugh. "Go back inside, Danny, I'll just be another minute, okay?"

"Okay," Danny says doubtfully, squinting up at him, but does as he's told, which is a first.

"Wow, okay. I'll call Max, see if he can rush the lab results on Danny's blood that the Emergency crew logged yesterday. I'll call you back as soon as I know anything." It's Chin's turn to hesitate. "Do you want me to send Kono out to you?"

Steve's first thought is 'hell no', but he pushes it back immediately. Kono will help, and he's not sure if he can take care of Danny by himself. God knows he doesn't have the background.

"Yeah, ask her to meet us at Kamekona's shop in an hour, will you? I'll get Danny some breakfast first. And, uh, listen, can you call someone to fix Danny's door? I didn't have any intel, and I heard a noise, so I had to kick it in."

"Sure thing, brah," Chin says. Steve suspects he hears a smothered laugh just before Chin disconnects, but he lets it go.

He turns back to face the door and sucks in a huge breath. It's okay. He can do this. He can make sure Danny's safe and clothed and fed and reasonably happy, and then they'll figure out how to get his older version back as soon as possible.

When he goes inside, Danny's back to huddling on the bed, back pressed against the headboard. He looks at Steve with narrowed eyes.

"That wasn't Matty you were speaking to," he accuses. "Matty knows how old I am. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Steve blows out a sigh and resists the urge to smack himself in the head. What is Danny always saying? _Never lie to Grace_. So why would he think that lying to _Danny_ would be okay?

"You're right. I'm sorry. My name is Steve McGarrett, and I am a police officer."

At the mention of police Danny perks up again. "Can I see your badge?"

"Sure," Steve says, unclips it from his belt and hands it over. Danny takes it with eager hands, turns it this way and that.

"Okay," Danny says at last, no longer sounding quite so suspicious. "Why did you say Matty sent you?"

Steve just about stops himself from shuffling his feet in embarrassment. He hasn't been trained for this. "I thought it might make you more comfortable. I'm sorry I lied to you."

Danny looks at him steadily, familiar blue eyes boring through Steve like they can read his every thought. It's not exactly a novel feeling, just--different.

"Don't do it again," Danny says at last, handing back his badge.

"I promise," Steve says solemnly, nodding once.

Danny smiles at him then, just a younger version of the smile Steve loves so much; it makes Danny's whole face light up. Steve smiles back, relieved beyond reason that he hasn't managed to screw this up.

He claps his hands enthusiastically. "Okay then, let's get you dressed!"

They start digging, and thank god for Grace, there's a green polo shirt that, if Steve remembers correctly, is part of Grace's school uniform. It fits Danny just fine, and they go looking for more. A pair of jeans is unearthed, and Steve only has to roll the cuffs up once to get them to fit. Danny flat-out refuses to put on a pair of pink panties, so Steve helps him tug on the jeans over his bare bottom, and he promises himself he'll go shopping if this situation looks like it's going to stretch. He prays it won't.

Danny slips his feet into Grace's white trainers that are quite a bit larger on him, and refuses Steve's help as he painstakingly ties them, little fingers clumsy but precise. Steve rummages in Danny's bathroom and comes back with a comb, which he runs through Danny's hair to his half-hearted protests.

"Let's go get some breakfast, shall we?"

He lifts Danny up into the back seat and clips the safety belt on, jumps behind the wheel and takes off much, much more carefully than usual. He checks up on Danny in the review mirror -- Danny looks pretty happy sitting there, face pressed to the window to look outside.

"You okay?" Steve asks over his shoulder.

"It's so pretty here," Danny answers excitedly, and Steve feels warmth spread through his chest. He's never going to let Danny forget that he said Hawaii was pretty.

"Maybe this afternoon we can go swimming with dolphins?" he offers.

Danny's look of wonder makes something inside him tighten painfully. If it's the last thing he does, he's going to make sure Danny gets to have as much fun as he can fit in the time it takes to get _his_ Danny back.

Breakfast is uneventful, if you don't count Danny spilling his milkshake all over Steve's shirt. He looks panicked until Steve waves if off and laughs, and then Danny grins at him again, displaying a small gap in the even row of his lower teeth. It's ridiculously charming.

"We're going to meet a friend of mine now," Steve tells him as they walk back to the truck. "She's a police officer, too."

"Cool," Danny says, then wrinkles his nose when Steve takes off his chocolate-stained shirt and goes to pull a clean one on from the trunk. "What are those pictures on your arms?" he asks, squinting at them.

"They're called tattoos. They're permanent pictures on my skin, made with ink."

"Can I get one, too?" Danny asks excitedly.

"Not until you're much, much older," Steve says sternly, because the thought of Danny's expression when he learns that he asked to get a tattoo at the age of six and a half is enough to stop the teasing in its tracks. He ignores Danny's crestfallen look and buckles him up in the back again.

"They look really cool," Danny admits grudgingly, still pouting, and well, Steve is learning all kinds of new things today.

"Thank you. I promise I will take you to get one when you're older, if you still want to."

"Promise?" Danny beams at him.

"Promise."

Kono's waiting for them by Kamekona's shop, shooting the breeze with the big man himself. When Steve walks over with Danny holding on to his hand, the two of them bend down straight away to meet him.

"Hi, I'm Kono! You must be Danny," Kono says, her usual reassuring smile tinged with genuine affection that makes Steve feel so fucking proud of his team, it hurts a little.

"And I'm Kamekona! Would you like to try my new flavour shave ice? I could sure use a second opinion!"

"What's shave ice?" Danny asks, looking up at Steve for explanation. Steve can't speak for a moment around the lump in his throat -- no one has ever looked to him for answers, trusted him to make sense of the world for them -- even Mary was way more mature than him, right from the start. It's humbling and terrifying at the same time.

"It's like ice cream, only it's just crushed ice with fruit juice and other flavours. You wanna try one?"

"Yeah! Not pineapple, though. I hate pineapple."

"All right, sure thing," Kamekona says, going behind the counter as Steve and Kono share a grin. Some things never change.

Danny is picking happily at his watermelon and lime concoction when Steve's phone rings. "It's Chin," he tells Kono, before turning to Danny. "I'll be right back," he says; Danny smiles at him. His lips are stained red; it's kind of adorable.

"Chin, tell me you have something."

"Max has the lab results back. Looks like some agent that reverses the way cells process DNA. He says it's going to be all the rage in the cosmetics industry when they get their hands on it. Unfortunately for ladies of a certain age, you have to keep re-applying it if you want the effects to last, otherwise they disappear within 36 hours."

"So Danny has, what, another 20 hours until he gets back to his usual self?"

"Pretty much," Chin confirms. "He gonna stay with you until he's back?"

Steve sighs, but the thought of turning Danny over to child services is not something he can process, let alone consider. "Yeah, I'll take him home, he can sleep in Grac--my old room."

"All right, brah. Call if you need anything!" Amusement lurks in Chin's voice at his slip, but he doesn't say anything, which Steve counts as a blessing.

"Will do. You and Kono sign off for the weekend, I can manage. We'll see you on Monday."

"Right."

"What's the verdict?" Kono asks when he walks back. Steve shoots a glance at Danny, but he has Kono's phone in his hands and is punching away at some game or other.

"We have another 20-odd hours before he turns back. He'll stay with me until he does; hopefully, he should be back to normal tomorrow morning. You take off, too. Go have some fun."

"What are you going to do?" Kono asks, looking down at Danny's blond head.

Steve grins. "We'll have some fun, too."

First up is the issue of clothes. Steve takes Danny to the Up and Riding store on Kamakee Street, and spends half an hour picking out some outfits for him. To his delight, Danny loves the little cargo pants they find, but he also asks for a pair of blue collar pants. Then they pick up three T-shirts, some boxers and socks, a pair of canvas trainers and a swimsuit. Danny gets changed into the cargo pants and new T-shirt, and swaps Grace's big trainers for the pair that actually fits him.

Thus attired, Danny takes Steve's hand again and they head over to Kahala Hotel. Steve calls from the truck and gets them booked onto the noon Dolphin Quest programme. Danny can't contain his excitement; he fidgets the whole way there.

Watching Danny tentatively step inside the pool is something Steve never thought he'd see, no matter Danny's age. He has a lifejacket clipped on securely, just in case, and as soon as he's inside he turns to look at Steve, apprehension in his eyes. Steve crouches by the side of the pool.

"Danny, I'll be right over by those chairs, you see them? I'll wait for you there. Tammy and Pamela will be with you all the time, okay, and if you get scared, I'll come get you before you know it."

"I'm not scared," Danny says mulishly, even though he shies away from the dolphin when it swims past.

"I know you're not," Steve says soothingly. "You're the bravest boy I know."

Danny beams at him, obviously pleased by Steve's words, and Tammy and Pamela both flash him identical 'aww, isn't he cute' smiles. Steve straightens and walks slowly over to the chairs set up for parents while Danny turns to look at the dolphins again, face set in a determined frown. It's not long until he's giggling and shrieking with pleasure as the nearest dolphin butts him gently with its head and opens its mouth to grin at him. The sound makes Steve relax for the first time today; he can do this thing. That boy's still his Danny, stubborn and clever and sweet, and it doesn't matter what age he is, Steve will always look out for him.

When his 30 minutes are up, Danny is exhausted but exhilarated, grin so big it's splitting his face in two. "That was awesome!" he crows, collapsing over Steve's legs in a pile of wet, happy boy.

"I'm glad you had fun," Steve says, scrounging up a towel and picking Danny up as if he weighs nothing -- which to Steve he almost does; he's lighter even than Grace, and she's barely 60lbs in wet jeans.

He rubs Danny dry while Danny squirms in his arms, giggling when Steve pretends to drop him. They go get Danny showered with clean water and changed in dry clothes, and then they head over back to Steve's house. Danny falls asleep in the truck, and Steve finds himself driving even more carefully than this morning, aware of every bump on the road. When he parks in the driveway and Danny still hasn't woken up, Steve picks him up gently and brings him inside, deposits him on the couch -- he doesn't want Danny to wake up alone in a strange room again; he can sleep upstairs tonight after he's learned the house's layout. He tugs off Danny's shoes and tucks a thin blanket over his sprawled body, just in case he gets cold, even though it's as warm a day as any. Then he goes to check the status of his kitchen cupboards.

It takes Danny a while to resurface. The first Steve knows of it is a thump in the living room; when he turns around from the stove, Danny's standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, one hand rubbing at his eyes and the other scratching his stomach. Steve melts inside at the sight.

"I'm making some scrambled eggs and salmon for lunch," Steve offers when he can think of nothing else to say.

Danny makes a face but sits at the table, climbing up on top of the chair deftly. He's still too short, so Steve takes the pan off the heat and goes to fetch two cushions from the sofa.

"Stand up," he says, and slips one of them on the chair, lifting Danny to sit on top of it. "Ah, much better, isn't it?"

Danny smiles hesitantly at him; it could be just that he's still sleepy, but Steve doesn't think so. "What is it?" he asks gently.

Danny looks up at him until Steve crouches in front of him. "Where are my mom and dad?" he asks, and his voice is so small and unsure that Steve's chest clenches painfully.

He promised Danny he wouldn't lie to him again, but what could he say that Danny would understand?

"They're on their way here," he says at last, hoping Danny would forgive him. "They'll be here tomorrow morning. Until then, you can stay with me, okay?"

"Okay," Danny says, looking reassured. Steve squeezes his shoulder and goes back to the stove, divides the eggs and salmon neatly onto two plates. "Would you like some toast?"

"Yes, please. Can I have some fruit juice?"

"Sure. I have apple. Is that okay?"

"I like apple juice," Danny says helpfully. Steve files it away for later reference, fetches two glasses and fills them.

They eat in silence, Danny crunching the toast Steve had cut up and buttered for him and forking egg carefully into his mouth at steady intervals until it's all gone. Steve watches him while trying to pretend he isn't, but he doesn't think Danny's fooled.

"What would you like to do this afternoon? There's a beach out back."

Danny scrunches his nose again. Steve is learning to recognise this as meaning Danny's not particularly keen on the idea, but will go along with it because Steve is asking him to.

"You don't like the beach?" Steve asks, low and amused, because this is _Danny_ , and apparently things haven't changed all that much.

"Not really," Danny says, biting at his lower lip.

"Okay, well, you can watch some TV if you like, or we could play cards, or we could read a little."

"Read? What books? My mom started reading me _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ last week!" Danny's eyes have gone huge and appealing again. It's not something Steve can resist.

"Let me see what I can find," he says, crossing his fingers in hope that his father hadn't thrown out his and Mary's old children's books. "Why don't you go watch TV until I come back?"

Danny nods and races back to the sofa, waiting for Steve to tell him which one of the five remotes on the table is for the TV set. Steve clicks it on for him, hands him the remote, and makes his way up the stairs into the attic. The afternoon light slants through the windows when he pushes open the flap door, hitting thousands of dust mites dancing through the stuffy air. He heads for the back, where he vaguely remembers spotting a box marked 'KIDS--BOOKS' with his father's chickenscratch writing when he was putting some things away a couple weeks ago. He has to lift four boxes to the side before he finds it; when he does, he drags it out and cuts through the packing tape with the small pocket knife he always carries around in his sweatpants pocket, just in case. He pulls the sides of the box up and peers inside.

Row after neat row of book spines look up at him, tucked around a pile of books with their covers facing out. Battered, well-thumbed copies of _Winnie the Poo_ , _Charlotte's Web_ , _Little Lord Fauntleroy_ , _Emil and the Detectives_ , _Captain Blood_ \-- he remembers all of those, remembers his mother's voice reading them to him and Mary, sat on either side of her on the sofa, wide-eyed and enthralled by the adventures. He picks some of the books off the top, and there they are -- all of Roald Dahl's stories, _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ on the very top of the pile. He grins in victory and put the books back inside, takes the whole box downstairs. Even if he won't have the time to share them with Danny, maybe Grace might want to take a look.

When he gets back downstairs, he finds Danny wrinkling his nose yet again, at SpongeBob SquarePants this time. Steve fights his grin; this kid reminds him of his Danny so much sometimes, it's almost impossible not to bait him -- but then Danny turns and looks at him with those wide eyes again, and Steve remembers that it will be years yet before Danny will be able to hone his sarcasm and give back as good as he gets.

"Look, I found it," Steve says instead. Danny squirms on the sofa until he's wedged into one corner, leaving space for Steve to sit down next to him. He leans back against a cushion, snuggles down and waits not so patiently for Steve to settle and start reading.

"Show me where you and your mom got to?"

Danny scoots closer, leafs through the pages, looking at the illustrations, and points at the end of chapter four. "Right here."

"Okay then." Steve clears his throat to start; he's barely got through three sentences before Danny huffs impatiently next to him, tugs his arm up and climbs underneath it, settling himself in Steve's lap so he can see the book and the pictures better. Steve doesn't know what to do with his arms, how to hold him, whether to hold him at all, but Danny leans against his chest and makes a satisfied noise.

"Go on," he directs, and Steve smothers a smile behind his head, curls one long arm around his small frame, turns the book so it faces Danny, and starts reading again.

Danny stays patient for just over two chapters before he starts fidgeting. Steve marks the place and closes the book, turning to look at him.

"Can we play catch?" Danny says. Steve's heart sinks.

"I don't actually have a ball or a glove." Before Danny's face can fall, Steve thinks fast and blurts, "I do have a football, though."

"Awesome," Danny grins and squirms off him.

They toss a football back and forth in the back yard until the bright blue of the sky starts to fade and shadows lengthen and spread over the grass. Danny is drooping a little, and Steve thinks he's had enough exercise for one day.

"What would you like for dinner?" he calls over.

"Can we have pizza?"

Steve thinks of the fairly healthy lunch and breakfast, and the vast amount of running and swimming Danny's done today, and thinks, 'why the hell not'.

"Sure. Pepperoni?"

"How did you know?" Danny yells, delighted.

'I know you.' It's on the tip of Steve's tongue; he manages to bite it back at the last moment. It wouldn't do to confuse Danny even further.

"Everybody likes pepperoni," Steve fibs instead.

Danny runs inside to wash up while Steve dials the take-away place down the block. They watch football until it gets there, and Steve soaks up Danny's voice yelling at the screen. It's no different from any other Saturday night, except there are much fewer swearwords and beers involved. It's still nice, though, soothing.

Danny asks for more apple juice with his food, which Steve fetches happily along with plates and napkins. Danny manages two whole slices before he starts to nod off. Steve picks him up and takes him upstairs, helps him change into a huge T-shirt of Steve's and a pair of boxer shorts Steve isn't too convinced about -- if Danny changes back in the middle of the night, those might seriously hurt him, but it's equally awkward to send him to bed in nothing but a T-shirt, so Steve keeps his doubts to himself. They'll probably just get torn at the seams from the pressure, and not cause too much fuss.

Danny washes his teeth obediently in the bathroom down the hall while Steve pulls the covers back and puts the discarded clothes away; then he goes to meet Danny half-way down the corridor.

"Look, kiddo, see that door there? That is my room. If you need me, for whatever reason, you come and get me, okay? If I'm not there, I'll be downstairs. Don't be afraid to come find me, yeah?"

"Okay," Danny says, and he's already half-asleep when Steve tucks him in, in what is Grace's bed when she stays over.

Steve's just about to turn the lights out when Danny calls him back. He walks over to the small bed; Danny takes his hand and tugs him down until he's kneeling in front of it.

"Thank you, Steve. I had fun today. Thanks for looking after me until my mom and dad get here," Danny says, and then he pushes himself up and throws his arms around Steve's neck, burying his face in his shoulder.

Steve wraps his arms around the warm little body and holds on tight. He wonders if Danny feels this way every time he says goodbye to Grace, a stab of bittersweet pain somewhere in the region of his heart. "You're very welcome, Danno," he says gruffly.

Danny lets go and pulls away. "That's a funny name," he says, but he kisses Steve's cheek all the same and drops back into the bed.

Steve draws the covers over his shoulders, makes sure the curtains are drawn back so moonlight floods the room and keeps it light and soothing, so Danny won't wake up disoriented in a dark room.

He goes downstairs, but he's feeling so restless he can't settle down to anything. He tidies up, throws out the pizza box and the rubbish, washes the plates by hand to kill time, and when even that doesn't help he goes in his dad's office and buries himself in paperwork. There's an itch under his skin, all this waiting; he longs to go for a run or a swim, but he promised Danny he'd be here if Danny needs him, and he'll be damned if he breaks his word.

Paperwork only takes him up to past midnight, but he's still so keyed up that there can be no question about going to bed. Until Danny's safely back to normal, he doubts he'll even be able to close his eyes. He does sit-ups and press-ups for another hour, until his muscles are loose and quivering but his mind is still as sharp as ever; takes a shower to pass more time. What he really wants to do is creep inside Grace's room, sit by Danny's bed so he can see whether anything's happening, but if Danny wakes up he's going to be unsettled at least, and Steve never wants that. So he goes back downstairs and flicks on the TV, turns the volume down until it's just a hum and he can hear every sound from upstairs.

His mind is going over and over today, snagging on how much he enjoyed taking care of Danny, terrifying as it had been at times -- the joy on Danny's face made up for everything Steve had gone through to put it there. He thinks wistfully of Danny and Grace, wonders if they might let him tag along with them some weekend. Racks his brain to think of where he can take them that's different, to show off this island, his home, to Grace so he can see the same wonder in her eyes that he saw in Danny's today.

When it happens, it's without warning. One moment he's frowning at the screen and muttering under his breath about incompetent referees, the next there's a groan and a thump from upstairs, and he's racing up the steps and down the hall before he's even realised he's moved. He pushes the bedroom door open as quietly as he can, in case it's not what he thinks it is, but when he sees the lump on the floor he forgets all about stealth and rushes forward to tug the tangled sheet off -- and there Danny sprawls, all 5' 5'' of him. Steve has never been happier to see his bulky frame in his life, and that includes last week when Danny had shown up in the nick of time to stop Steve getting shot in the head by the gang of thugs that had gotten the jump on him when he was coming out of the malasadas place.

"Danny," he says urgently, "Danny, you okay? Say something!"

"Never thought I'd see the day when you'd be asking me to talk, McGarrett," Danny rasps and Steve almost sags in relief.

"All present and correct, I see," he mutters, but he 's nowhere near his usual levels of snark and he knows it.

Danny looks around. "What the hell am I doing in your house? Is this--am I in _Grace's_ room? _Why_ am I in Grace's room?"

Steve blows out a sigh, mentally gearing himself up for explanations. "So, remember that gas you got doused with on Friday? About that..."

Danny sits on the floor and listens patiently, in that he only interrupts Steve twice, and even then only to throw a word in edgeways. "So let me get this straight," he says in the end. "I got turned into a six-year-old--"

"Six and a half," Steve corrects patiently.

"--Six and a half year old, fine, okay, I can go with that. So I got turned into a kid, and you looked after me. And took me swimming with dolphins. And read to me. And let me have pepperoni pizza. And played football with me, and didn't make me go down to the beach. That about right?"

"Uh, yeah?" Steve tries. He has no idea where this is going.

Danny is silent for longer than Steve feels comfortable with. "I need a fucking drink," he says at last, bracing his arm on Steve's shoulder to push himself to standing.

Which is when he realises his predicament. He flushes all over that Steve can see -- and he can see a lot, okay, there is _a lot_ of Danny flushing -- grabs the sheet off the bed and winds it around his waist hurriedly. Steve watches mournfully as all that gorgeous Danny gets covered.

"Do you think I can borrow a pair of sweatpants or something? C'mon, McGarrett, I'm dying here."

Steve realises he's staring about the same time _Danny_ realises that he's staring. It's Steve's turn to flush hotly as he scrambles to his feet and turns his back on the considering expression on Danny's face.

"Sure, uh, yeah, I'll go fetch them now," he babbles and practically runs out the room. Not his smoothest exit, but in his defence Danny had been a sweet six-and-a-half-year-old kid for the past 20 hours, and now he's back to being a delectable 34-year-old man that Steve finds much too attractive, and Steve doesn't know what to do with himself. He wants to kiss him almost as much as he wants to cuddle him on his lap, and that's a disturbing image right there.

Except that it isn't, because cuddling grown-up Danny on his lap is actually about twice as appealing as the idea of cuddling kid Danny, for entirely different reasons.

Except _that's_ not quite true, either, because he _still_ wants to make Danny feel warm and safe and happy in his arms, no matter his age; and oh god, Steve is so screwed he's taken it up to a whole new level, and that's saying something.

He snags a pair of sweatpants out of the chest of drawers in his bedroom and ferries them over to Grace's room, where Danny is still standing by the bed, staring out of the window. Steve hands them over without a word, turns his back when Danny drops the sheet to pull them on, and leads the way downstairs. He digs out his dad's 18-year-old single malt Laphroaig, pours two hefty measures in the crystal tumblers he fetches from the cupboard by the fridge, and hands one to Danny before collapsing onto the sofa. He expects Danny to take the armchair, as far away from him as he can get, but Danny comes over to sprawl by his side, tucked away into the same corner as his younger self had chosen earlier.

They drink in silence until the first hit is gone and Steve refills their glasses.

"I remember the dolphins," Danny says at last. "I thought it was a dream when I woke up, but I remember swimming with them, and those two girls helping to hold me aloft, and I remember running over to you when I got out."

Steve doesn't say anything, waits him out.

Danny opens his mouth as if to say more, closes it, opens it again. "And you read to me here, _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_."

"Yeah," Steve nods, takes a drink from his glass. He doesn't dare look at Danny; he stares unseeing at the still-running TV instead. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to see whether Danny's going to be pissed, or upset, or downright furious, or something different altogether. He's pretty sure he did a good job -- Danny was safe the whole day, wasn't made to do something he didn't want to, wasn't unhappy as far as Steve could tell. But then again, Steve's not the foremost authority on the happiness of six-and-a-half-year-old kids, is he.

He can feel Danny's eyes on him for a while before Danny seems to come to a decision, stretches to set his glass down on the coffee table. Pries Steve's glass out of the death grip he has on it and sets it down, too.

"And during that last, if I remember correctly -- and please, do tell me if I don't -- I did this." He kneels up on the sofa and crawls over to Steve. Steve doesn't dare move; he's frozen where he sits, watching Danny get closer and closer, realising Danny is giving him an out if he wants one, and he's never wanted to stay where he is more. Danny turns sideways and slips into his lap, settles himself between Steve's sprawled thighs, runs a hand over Steve's shoulder and sinks it tentatively into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Steve watches him carefully, uncertain as to where this is going. His arms have no such issues -- they lift to wrap around Danny's body, anchoring him in place lightly enough that Danny can break his hold easily if he wants. He doesn't seem to want to.

"Danno," Steve groans when Danny leans closer, touching warm lips to his. The kiss is soft, achingly sweet, no urgency, nothing but a slow press of lips, an exhale into each other's mouths. The smell of Danny fills his lungs, sleep-warm and effortlessly masculine, nothing at all like the sweet child-smell of younger Danny. It helps ground Steve, helps his body make the transition between holding young Danny and holding _his_ Danny, helps him realise just who it is curled in his arms. He lets out a groan and presses forward, fills his hands with hard muscle and lean hips, with long limbs and chest hair under the T-shirt that is back to fitting beautifully across those wide shoulders, with his Danny that he's been wanting for so long now but had thought he could never have. Danny kisses him back eagerly, and there's the urgency that was missing before, there's the thrill of stubble rubbing against his jaw, of large hands covering the back of his neck, of Danny's heavy weight sinking into him.

Danny pulls back a little, tugging on Steve's lower lip with his teeth. Steve's eyelids flutter at the sensation. "Too soon, huh?" Danny asks, and Steve realises that he's only half-hard against the hip pressing into his crotch.

"Kind of, yeah," he admits. "It hasn't sunk in yet that you're really back, I guess." 'And that I'm allowed to do this,' he doesn't add, but he thinks Danny gets it.

"Do you want me to go--"

Danny hasn't even finished the sentence before Steve's arms tighten around him, instinctive. He's not letting Danny go _anywhere_ now that he has him.

"That would be a 'no'," Danny states, grinning and pressing a kiss onto the edge of Steve's jaw. Steve leans into it helplessly.

"Let's just--sleep for now, yeah? And then tomorrow, we'll see where we are."

Danny leans back and takes a good look at him. "You haven't slept yet, have you?"

"Not really," Steve says, a little sheepish. Danny smiles at him, and while he can see child Danny in it, it's all pure grown-up Danny in the twinkle of understanding in his eye.

"All right then, to bed with you," Danny says, and tries to slide off Steve's lap. Steve tightens his arms again.

"You're coming too, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming too, OctoSEAL. Now let me up. I swear, you have them all fooled; you're secretly the biggest cuddler of them all, aren't you? Admit it," Danny teases, and Steve's anxiety settles back down in his chest enough to unwind his arms from Danny's body.

"Okay."

"Okay, he says," Danny grumbles, gets to his feet and offers Steve a hand to help him up. Steve takes it without hesitation.

In the morning, they can talk this thing through, and sort out all those feelings that have Steve so confused, and Danny can help him find his bearings again. Danny's good at that. And then maybe Steve can finally make a few noises about Danny moving in with him, something he's wanted to ask for months now -- move in with him, throw his lot in with him, make a life with him. Maybe even share Grace with him, if Danny's willing; Steve isn't going to push, not about something so important.

For now, though, they climb wearily upstairs, where Danny stretches out on the large bed and lets Steve curl around him, throw a leg between his own, slide a hand underneath his T-shirt to lay it over his stomach, so he can feel Danny's muscles twitching every time he takes a breath. Everything is as it should be, and Steve can drift off at last, the sound of Danny's faint snores like music to his ears.

 

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End file.
